Broken

I step on broken glasses, the result being bleeding feet, as the world weigh down on me. I let the hurricane inside me stream out in the form of tears for a moment before I turn to wipe it out with my dirty hand.

Even if I was probably only stepping at broken shards of glass for half a minute, I can't help feel like I've been spending a lifetime in each step. How could I not? My dignity was just grabbed from me and there's nothing I could do about it.

They all laughed at me and criticized me for years, yes, but they were all nobody. I didn't care about nameless people shaming me, those who go with fake names and fake profile picture to mask their identity.

What broke me into million pieces a second was my own friends, my own family, my own lover all criticizing me at once. They sent hurtful words like it was as easy as breathing. They flew me to the hole I created for my self-doubts like they were bidding me a good night.

It was so easy for them to mock me and strip me of my dignity in front of each other, teaming up like it was what they were made to do from the beginning.

And it was okay for me. I knew that they knew that I'd be fine with it. So they went on for hours, until all I could see was my bruised hands from having to keep biting it just so my sobs wouldn't be heard.

Then I got them dirty. So dirty I couldn't even make of what it used to be. Just like how I once was.

Dirty from punching everything and everyone that came my way. It was almost as natural as blinking whenever I see anything irritating.

But that was a while ago.

I'm treading fallen pieces of glass like the lost boy I am, and letting imaginary pieces of glass rain down on me. I imagine my surrounding getting cold and so dark, the main source being somewhere inside of me. And I chuckled darkly, because I am naked with my thoughts and emotions, and no one would understand the hollow feeling.

Never had life been so good until now. Oh how I wish this wouldn't end.